Everyman
by Casix Thistlebane
Summary: Some Buffy characters have a run in with themselves....


Okay, so this story is just a little different from  
anything I've written thus far, so I figured I'd give  
you all a bit of author's note now rather than at the  
front of the story. there are a few things you ought  
to know before reading it:  
  
a) the title is an allusion to the medieval morality  
plays. you know, the one with an angel and a devil on  
either shoulder, telling you what to do? keep those  
guys in mind as you read.  
  
b) each part (with the exception of the last) could  
work as a stand alone. feel free to read them in any  
order you like, leaving out any characters you don't  
care about. but the full effect comes from reading  
the whole thing....  
  
c) its purposefully repetetive from part to part. I  
like it that way. if you don't, then I'm sorry.  
  
and lastly, just a sort of "fun fact": this whole  
story was inspired by a quote from Joss in the latest  
issue of Entertainment Weekly (unfortunately this  
might not be precise, as I had to cut out the awesome  
pic of Marsters and Head on the other side fo the  
page): "Spike is everything Giles used to be, and  
Giles is everything Spike refused to be"  
  
so, um, yeah, read on, enjoy, and let me know what you  
think.  
  
Casix  
who is wondering if writing things at 4 am is really  
that good an idea....  
  
  
  
title: Everyman  
author: Casix Thistlebane  
  
disclaimer: the characters are still the property of  
Joss.  
  
summary: Some Buffy characters have a run in with  
themselves....  
  
Everyman  
by Casix Thistlebane  
  
Xander  
  
  
"Its not what you thought  
When you first began it  
You've got what you want  
Now you can hardly stand it   
though by now you know  
Its not going to stop  
Its not going to stop  
Its not going to stop   
Till you wise up"  
--Wise Up by Aimee Mann  
  
"Are you happy?"  
  
The voice came out of nowhere and everywhere at the  
same time. But that's what happens in a small room  
where every surface is essentially a sound shell.   
Xander looked over his shoulder towards the door to  
the half-tiled bathroom.  
  
"Where's your hard hat?"  
  
"I don't need one." The Other walked in and stretched  
its wings. "You're not breathing."  
  
"Sure I am." Brown eyes met brown eyes and Xander  
reached up to wipe grimy sweat from his forehead.  
  
"How can you be?" The Other was dressed strangely,  
his dark hair curling over a white band holding a  
clear stone suspended in the middle of his forehead.   
His hawaiian shirt was washed out and faded to pastels  
just shades from being white. His whole spirit seemed  
acid washed. The only dark points on him were those  
directly reflecting Xander. Dark hair and dark eyes,  
but otherwise bleached and starched. "How can you  
breathe the chemicals and saw dust? You're smothering  
in this room and this job and you don't even know it.   
Where can you go that you can breathe?"  
  
"I like this job. I like the chemicals and the  
sawdust. I can't thrive without them. I need them to  
live, I need them to breathe." Xander adjusted his  
own bright blue shirt, open against the heat of the  
room.  
  
"But are you happy? You can't not want out. I know  
you."  
  
"And I know you. But if you know me so well, then you  
know I'm happier now than I've been since highschool."  
  
"But you're not yet happy."  
  
"He's right." The Dark Other stood in the closed  
window. He stepped down on the uninstalled toilet and  
crouched there, his tail twining over his left wrist.   
A dark, spiked collar circled his throat, and his own  
shirt was over-died to the point of blackness. His  
hair seemed light in contrast. "You're not happy yet.  
There are too many people still standing in your way.  
What are you going to do to fix that?"  
  
"Nothing." Xander stared back down at the spackle  
knife and tile cement, his nostrils flaring at the  
smell. He'd been crouched there in the darkness and  
the heat of the dank room for hour snow, and he felt  
himself grow a little giddy. He'd started  
hallucinating about the Other selves not long ago, but  
so far managed to keep the conversation in his head.   
He mouthed the word again.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
He couldn't breathe.  
  
+++++++++  
  
Giles  
  
  
"With your feet in the air and your head on the ground  
Try this trick and spin it, yeah  
Your head will collapse  
If there's nothing in it   
And you'll ask yourself"  
--Where is my Mind? by Pixies  
  
"Are you happy, Rupert?"  
  
The voice came from the depths of the stairwell at the  
back of the small warehouse, and the he followed it  
with his eyes as he waited for his supplier to return  
with the crate.  
  
"Yes," he said to the figure that sat in the darkness  
of the bottom stair. "Of course I am."  
  
"How can you be?" His father leaned forward, and  
expression of exhaustion slipping over his entire  
body. "You've lost sight of your purpose. Your  
Slayer is slipping away and you are stifled by your  
worries about retail. Your mind can't work here. How  
can you be happy?"  
  
"I may have once wanted to control Buffy, but it's  
been a long time since I've learned that I can't. I  
let her go. She'll come back. She's already  
started."  
  
"She comes for information you don't have--that no one  
has. You could learn it, but you're blinded by the  
store. You're not a shopkeeper."  
  
"I am now. I'm supporting myself, instead of living  
off of everything you forced upon me. That makes me  
happy."  
  
"Is that really enough, Mate?" Spike stood on the  
landing above him, a wraith of scentless smoke  
hovering around his yellow hair. "Where's the  
stimulation? When was the last time you had a real  
conversation without sounding like a fool? When was  
the last time you were amongst your own age group?   
Where is Olivia?"  
  
"You don't need eloquence for intelligence." Giles  
straightened his jacket. "The children have been good  
for me. Renewed me."  
  
"Smothered you," his father said. "Where is your  
mind, Rupert? What have you been thinking about?   
Prices. Economy. Money. Where has your high thought  
gone? You're not happy?"  
  
"I'm happier with my store than I have been since I  
lost the library."  
  
"But you're not happy." Spike started down the  
stairs. "There's still too much in your way. You're  
not free. What are you going to do about it?"  
  
"Nothing." Spike's steps struck the concrete floor  
and he dissolved into darkness. His father stood and  
vanished as well. Giles sighed and moved back into  
the main room of the warehouse. The word still  
hovered on his lips. "Nothing."  
  
His mind wandered.  
  
++++++++++  
  
Buffy  
  
  
"I'm sorry about the sun  
How could I know that you would burn  
And I'm sorry about the world  
How could I know that you'd disapprove  
And I'll never make the same mistake  
And next time I create the universe   
I'll make sure your dues are paid  
But until then I'm better off dead   
A song on my lips and a hole in my head  
I'm better of dead I'm better than this  
Take it away cause there's nothing to miss  
Better off dead you're better off dead  
Why don't you try pushing daisies instead?"  
--Better Off Dead by Bad Religion  
  
"You happy?"  
  
Buffy spun in the air, her foot slamming into the old  
battered exercise bag in the basement of her house.   
She ignored the voice she'd heard for the first time  
years ago. It had taken on a number of forms, but the  
most recent was the most obnoxious.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"No." Buffy slammed a fist through the bag. It was  
the third she'd gone through that week. She had to  
buy them used to save money. "Of course I'm not  
happy. I'm never happy."   
  
"But why not?" Kendra helped her take down the bag.   
"You live. You have good friends, better family, and  
sincere love."  
  
"I have to fight to keep them all alive."  
  
"And now there's no one to fight." Faith stood on the  
other side of her, helping her put up the last of her  
punching bag supply. "You can't beat up the cancer  
and its killing you."  
  
"What's your point?" Buffy punched the bag, and noted  
that the canvas over this one was firmer than the  
others. "I can keep her safe till the doctors can  
beat the cancer."  
  
"What if they can't?"  
  
"They have to." Buffy slammed her fists together and  
forward, then kicked the bag again. "I can't support  
Dawn without fighting."  
  
"But how can you fight? How can you keep doing this?"  
Kendra stood just to the left of the bag. "When is  
the energy going to run out? Spike is right. In the  
end, you'll welcome it."  
  
"You already do." Faith circled to her right. "How  
easy would it be to just stop? You'd be replaced in a  
week. The world wouldn't end, someone else can  
protect it."  
  
"You won't be happy," Kendra held the bag still,  
"until you can rest. What are you going to do about  
that?"  
  
"Nothing." Buffy slammed a fist through the bag and  
felt the string that held it up snap. The bag fell to  
the floor and Buffy spoke to the empty room.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
There wasn't anything left to fight.  
  
+++++++++  
  
Riley  
  
  
"I am the son and the heir  
of a shyness that is criminally vulgar  
I am the son and heir  
of nothing in particular  
You shut your mouth  
How can you say   
I go about things the wrong way  
I am human and I need to be loved  
Just like everybody else does"  
--How Soon is Now by the Smiths  
  
"Are you happy?"  
  
Riley tightened his grip on the stake in his pocket  
even as he tilted his head to give the vampire more  
access. "I'm here to be drunk, not to soul-search."  
  
"Too bad." The vampire licked his neck without  
biting. "I know your MO. You get vamps to drain you  
just enough that the lack of oxygen gets you high.   
Then you stake them and wallow in self-pity."  
  
"You don't know a damn thing about me."  
  
"No?" Graham stood in front of them as the vampire  
continued to tease Riley's throat. "We know you  
better than you think."  
  
"Graham, go away."  
  
"Can't get rid of us that easy, Buddy. You're the one  
who asked us here."  
  
"No. Not like this."  
  
"You wanna fulfill your death wish? We vanish the  
moment you do. This isn't making you happier."  
  
The vampire nibbled his shoulder even as her voice  
hissed next to his ear. "You can't escape this way."  
  
"I don't want to escape."  
  
"Don't you?" Graham stepped up closer. "You wish you  
didn't have to feel this way. You wish you could hate  
her for not loving you. So you let them use you  
pretending you're in control. You haven't been in  
control since you left home."  
  
"I am in control. I can stop anytime."  
  
"Can you? Or is this a new addiction? It'll kill you  
just as surely as the Initiative's experiments. You  
think you can just stop? You have a death wish."  
  
"Just shut up. I don't want to die."  
  
"Just lose yourself for awhile, right?" The vampire  
stuck her tongue in his ear. "Pretend you're not  
aching with every word, every transgression? Pretend  
you can be just as bad ass as the vampires who rate  
above you? Or maybe prove it. To whom? Yourself?   
Her?"  
  
"I don't need to prove anything."  
  
"You won't be happy until you're in control again.   
But you're so far off the tracks you don't even know  
the way back. What are you going to do about it?"  
  
"Nothing." Riley let go of the stake as the vampire  
bit down and started drinking. He liked the way the  
word felt on his tongue and rolled it around a bit.   
"Nothing."  
  
He let himself bleed into her mouth.  
  
+++++++++  
  
Dawn  
  
  
"I make such a good statistic  
Someone should study me now  
Someone has got to be interested in how I feel   
Just because I'm here  
and I'm real"  
--Fire Door by Ani Defranco  
  
'Are you happy?'  
  
She wrote the question to herself, in a small cartoon  
speech bubble over his head. It was a picture from a  
photo she's stolen from Buffy more than a year ago,  
when his hair was shorter and he still had that  
eternal glint of mischief in his eye. The glint had  
gotten more ironic since highschool. She wasn't  
supposed to notice those sorts of things.  
  
On the other hand, she wasn't supposed to do a lot of  
things. And glueing pictures of Xander Harris into  
her journal was by far the most innocent thing she'd  
thought of to do all day.  
  
She had stopped just hort of drawing a heart around  
his face. This journal was supposed to be more  
dignified than that.  
  
She modeled the whole thing off of the one Sebastian  
had kept in Cruel Intentions. She'd even gone so far  
as to cut out a picture of the actress who looked  
exactly like Buffy and glue her serious, dark looking  
image on the facing page. Above that she drew another  
speech bubble. This one said: 'Are you real?'  
  
She honestly wasn't sure about eh answer to either  
question. She filled in the spaces to either side of  
the pictures with possible answers.  
  
'Are you happy?' the light hearted Xander asked.  
  
'Without you, no.' she wrote, then crossed out the  
'without you'. 'There's not much to be happy about.   
Mom might be dying, in which case Buffy'd have to get  
a real job because Dad's not interested enough in us  
to lend a hand. We could live off of the others, but  
that would just make me feel like we were taking  
advantage of them. Buffy still won't let me do  
anything; she treats me like I'm two. She won't tell  
me the truth about Mom, or about anyone. She got so  
sued to keeping secrets when Mom and I didn't know  
about her being the Slayer that now she can't stop. I  
just want her to tell me the truth sometimes. Would  
that make me happy?'  
  
'Are you real?' The dark Buffy asked.  
  
'I don't know. So many people have told me that I"m  
not here, even Mom and Buffy. And Buffy's story  
doesn't quite hold up. It was nice for a moment, but  
I know she's still lying to me.  
  
'I don't understand how I could NOT be real. I'm  
here, aren't I? How could I exist and have memories  
and people who know me and not be real? I've got an  
official transcript, a social security number, and a  
birth certificate. Not that I've seen my birth  
certificate. Oh my God, what if I don't have a birth  
certificate?!  
  
'I'll never be happy until I know that I'm real.'  
  
She stopped, her hand aching, and looked over what she  
just read. The pictures watched her, and seemed to  
ask one more question:  
  
'So what are you going to do about it?'  
  
'Nothing.' She wrote, under the pictures' joint  
speech bubble. She couldn't do anything until her mom  
was okay and she wouldn't have to feel guilty about  
pestering Buffy for the truth.   
  
'Just.... nothing.'  
  
She curled into a ball on her bed and listened to  
Buffy beating the wall downstairs.  
  
+++++++++  
  
Willow  
  
  
"Tears on the sleeve of a man  
Don't want to be a boy today  
I heard the eternal footman  
Got himself a bike to race  
And Greg he writes letters and burns his CDs  
They say he was something in those formative years  
Well hold on to nothing as fast as you can  
Still pretty good year"  
--Pretty Good Year by Tori Amos  
  
"Are you happy?"  
  
Willow let a smile grow as she watched the small blue  
spark hovering next to her computer. It glimmered in  
time to its speech and with its arrival had dimmed  
Tara's string lights so as to be seen better. Her  
incense had gone out and the slight chill made her  
shiver gently.   
  
"Who called you?"  
  
"I don't have to be called." The light settled on to  
the computer, resolving itself into a tiny nude  
person. The fairy knocked its heels on the button  
she'd hot glued to the monitor. "I'm a part of you."  
  
"Cool."  
  
"Are you happy?" The fairy cocked its head to one  
side. There wasn't a single speck of hair on its  
body. "Really happy?"  
  
"I think so." Willow thought about it for a moment.   
"I still miss Oz, and I wish he'd stuck around so we  
could still be friends.... and Anya is still  
irritating... oh! And Riley broods too much. But I  
can't really come up with a reason to really be  
unhappy."  
  
"They don't know you though." Another fairy, this one  
red, sat on the other corner of the monitor. "Not  
really. They think they do, so they don't try, but  
they don't know the real you."  
  
"I'm not sure I know the real me. Isn't that what  
college is about? Finding yourself?"  
  
"Some people never do." The red fairy stretched and  
pulled its knees to its chest. "Some never try."  
  
"You're not trying." The blue one nodded and crossed  
its legs.  
  
"How can you say that?" Willow frowned, looking  
rapidly from fairy to fairy. "I'm trying everything.   
I found out about witchcraft, and that I love Tara."  
  
"But what have you done since?" The fairies watched  
her closely. The red one smiled. "You're comfortable  
constructing a mask for yourself, giving yourself  
roles to play: the witch, the lesbian, the dutiful  
friend. You pick a role, accept the mask, and let it  
hide the real you. The one who still longs for a real  
relationship with her parents. The one who still  
feels inadequate in the face of her friends. You  
haven't made peace with her."  
  
"Now wait a minute--"  
  
"You're conflicted." The blue one lit a tiny candle.   
"You light the menorah and pray to a goddess. You  
trade horsefly medallions for Stars of David and back  
again. You don't know what to believe so take  
whichever faith seems appropriate at the moment.   
You're not yet happy. You won't be until you  
reconcile your habits with your beliefs and find out  
who you are. What are you going to do about that?"  
  
"I--"  
  
The phone rang and the fairies vanished. Willow  
rushed to answer.  
  
+++++++++  
  
conclusion  
  
  
"Is it getting better?  
Or do you feel the same?  
Will it make it easier on you now  
You got someone to blame  
One life  
One love  
And its one need in the night  
One love and we get to share it  
It leaves you baby if you don't care for it"  
--One by U2  
  
  
Willow squeezed Tara's hand and toyed with the two  
pendants which hung side by side on a silver chain  
around her neck. A topaz horsefly and a silver Star  
of David. She cast a sidelong glance at Buffy, who  
clenched and unclenched her fists as she paced. Dawn  
sat curled in an armchair like it was her home. Which  
perhaps, it just might be. The poor girl had  
certainly spent enough time here lately.  
  
Giles came in at a run, stopping just short of running  
over the two witches.  
  
"I came as soon as I got the message. Now what on  
Earth--"  
  
Willow took a deep breath and a mental tally.   
"Buffy's mom is in the recovery room, Riley is getting  
a blood transfusion after somehow managing to get  
attacked by a vamp in the middle of the afternoon, and  
they're checking Xander to make sure he hasn't got any  
brain damage after nearly asphyxiating in a  
half-finished bathroom. And Buffy broke a finger  
punching concrete wall repeatedly, but I get the  
feeling that that's already pretty much mended."  
  
"Good lord." Giles glanced at the witches, Dawn, and  
Anya, who was arguing with a nurse. "Are the rest of  
you alright?"  
  
"Yeah." Willow glanced about. "We're good. And  
Buffy's mom'll probably be fine. And so will Xander.   
They think he was pulled out before anything too  
serious could happen. He was saved by the same idiot  
on his crew who turned off the ventilation fan in the  
first place. But we can't get Riley to tell us how he  
ended up somewhere he could get sucked on by a vamp."  
  
"Yes, well, I'd imagine he'll have a bit to think  
about while he recovers."  
  
Willow nodded, and Tara squeezed her hand.   
  
"So," Giles took another look around the waiting room.  
"What do we do now?"  
  
"Nothing." Tara lead them to chairs by Dawn.   
"Nothing to do but wait."  
  
They sat down as close to each other as possible, each  
lost in his or her own thoughts.   
  
the end  



End file.
